Webs of Madness
by Skye12
Summary: Giving all the food and water to Frodo in Mordor has finally taken its toll on Sam. Frodo, weakened and going mad by the Ring, must find his strength to save his friend. Sam has a thin chance of survival with a half mad Frodo to care for him *NO SLASH*
1. Weakness

Frodo collapsed on the ground, his shoulders heaving, his body gasping. "I can't- I can't-" he cried, voice drained as he gasped for breath. He couldn't breathe, the dust in the air weighed heavily on his fragile body.  
  
Sam rushed to Frodo's side and fell to his knees, frantic. He ran his hand soothingly along Frodo's back, he could feel him shaking, gasping, no air was getting in him. "Come on Mr. Frodo, just be calm! Come, now, breathe slow, like me." Sam demonstated slow relaxed sighs. "Come, breathe with me, in, out, in, out."  
  
Frodo coughed and doubled over, weezing, gasping. "Can't- can't-"  
  
Sam spun around and rumaged through his pack, making a good mess of things, his hand finally came around the canteen. He tore off the cork and pressed it to Frodo's lips. "Come now, drink for your Sam."  
  
Frodo took in a few sips and gasped once more. His body began to tremble, slowly breathing, in, out, in, out. "Tha- thank you- S-" He was caught by another coughing fit then settled. "Sam."  
  
Sam nodded shakily and pressed the canteen to his lips again. Frodo took in the water his body so greatly needed, his parched throat screaming for it. He looked up at Sam's weary face as he drank. He saw Sam's eyes stare at the canteen longingly.  
  
Frodo pushed the canteen away, "Drink- Sam-"  
  
Sam just corked the canteen and closed his eyes as if he could not bear to watch his hands put it back in the pack. "I've had some, sir."  
  
Frodo was too out of his wits to answer. The ring gripped his mind so tightly dragging him in and out of terrible dreams. Darkness pulling him ever downward into the depths of despair. A soothing voice numbing him, steeling him of all defenses all his will.  
  
*Just put it on. Slip on the ring. And all of this pain, all of this suffering will be done.*  
  
"No," Frodo whispered.  
  
"Sir?" Sam lifted Frodo to his feet, his body swayed.  
  
*Don't listen to him. He'll bring you back. Bring you back to reality where all there is is pain and your suffering.*  
  
Frodo did not answer either voice. He started walking as if it were an instinct, something pressing him forward, pushing him ever on his quest. Sam followed uneasily, constantly catching Frodo as he slipped. Sam himself did not feel well. His throat was tight and his insides burning. Water, just a sip, but- No! Frodo needed that water more. He could survive, he had to, for Frodo, he had to help him through this. Sam fought thirst and hunger, darkness and despair, exhaustion and hopelessness. Sam could feel his own mind slipping in and out of consciousness, his eyes unfocussed as the world blurred. Water, just a sip, just a little to keep him alive, his body working- No! He fought the urge for just one sip again. How long could he go? Forever if he must. Frodo needed him.  
  
Frodo slipped again, falling to his knees, "I'm sorry Sam."  
  
"Come, Mr. Frodo, your Sam is here."  
  
"It's so dark, Sam. All I need to do- just- just put it on- just-"  
  
Sam saw Frodo's hands tremble, slowly inching towards his neck. He took Frodo's shaking hands in his, the left was deathly cold. He chaffed them trying to bring warmth back into them or stop their shaking, he prevailed in neither. "Shh, alls well, sir. It's alright your Sam is here."  
  
Frodo smiled, "Good dear Sam, I do not deserve you. You can go back. Go on, you do not deserve to stay here, in darkness with this foolish old hobbit, go on back to your Rose. You'll be happy together you know, with little Elanor and- and-"  
  
"Shh, Mr. Frodo, I can't go back, not now. We're here now, and we've still got something to do. The quest isn't finished yet, sir, and I will see you through this."  
  
Frodo groaned as if to protest the thought of going on, "I can't go on, Sam. This is where I lay down the quest. I can't go on. I can't- can't- the ring's call- calling-"  
  
Sam coughed, his parched throat screaming, "N-now, sir, there sir, come now your Sam will help you."  
  
Sam lifted Frodo and leaned him heavily on his side. Frodo's head drooped to rest upon his breast. Sam slung his arm around his shoulders and gripped Frodo about the waist. "Come now, sir, just one step at a time, walk with me."  
  
Sam coughed again but began the journey with strong steps. Supporting his master, light and thin as a willow wand. Sam frowned, "The second we get out of this I'll be sure to feed him up right, get him fatter than he ever was before. I'll get him nice and healthy, better than he was, he was always unnaturally thin for a hobbit." Sam tried to think of the days in Bag-End, drawing open the curtains to let the sun shine in, bright and warm. The sun, he could remember the sun, so long ago, but he could still feel it. Warming his face, beating down on his back as he worked in the gardens. Sam could almost see Bag-End, it was just infront of him, just to walk a little more and you'd be right upon the round, green door. Sam smiled deliriously, almost there, just a little more and he'd be cooking big breakfasts that always made Frodo's face light up in such a way. Sam smiled but was caught by another bout of dry coughing that shook Frodo, dragging Sam back to the harsh reality that was Mordor.  
  
Sam grumbled at his own hallucinations, blaming it on his sleepy, weary mind. The world looked as if it were underwater, was he drowning? Sam's stomach tightened at the thought of water trying to drive it from his mind. But he could see it, all around him, water. The world rippled as if it were just a reflection in a stream and Sam trudged on. He coughed again. The coughs shook his whole body and he could feel his throat scratch until it was raw and then a light salty taste of blood coated his tongue. He tasted it a moment. A liquid! Any liquid! Then he spat foolishly and ignored the rest of the salty blood swallowing it down with a great burning in his raw throat. He coughed again, and again and he forced down the blood but there was nothing else. No sweat or tears or saliva, there was nothing left in his dry body. No water for days and days! He coughed in agony, this time more violently.  
  
Frodo groaned at the disturbance in Sam's stride. Sam tried hard to regain composure but it only brought back another cough that made his throat scratch and bleed all the more. He could go on. Just a little while longer. Frodo needed the water more than him. And the trip back to the stream was gruelling. They needed to keep on the trail. More trips for water would just delay them. Sam gringed at the salty taste that coated his mouth. No he did not need water. He could- he would! go on without it! It was for Frodo, not him.  
  
Sam paused for a moment, his legs almost giving way. He gritted his teeth, determined to go on, he wasn't going to let his master down even if it meant his own death. And that was what he was dragging himself to, thirsty and exhausted, each step left a piece of him behind. Sam was falling apart but he could barely notice, too blind was his devotion to his master. He could go on, he must go on, he would go on.  
  
Frodo murmerred but Sam took it as another dream haunting him and did not question him. Just on and on, he must go on, nothing should stop him, nothing should delay him, he must go on. Frodo murmerred a little more clearly now, "Not- well- Sam-"  
  
"I know you're not well, sir, but just a little while further." They couldn't stop now. They were nearing Mount Doom with every step. Sam winced at the pain each step sent through his body. On and on, he must go on. He feared what would become of him if he stopped, he would never find the strength to go on.  
  
"You- Sam- not well-" Frodo slurred.  
  
"Fine, sir," Sam rasped, his voice drained.  
  
Frodo made feeble attempts to lift his head but he was too weak, "Rest- Sam- you- sick-"  
  
"I can go on," Sam lied.  
  
"Carry you- if- I could- Sam- too- too- weak- need help- Sam- you- you need- "  
  
"Shh, Mr. Frodo, don't waste your energy."  
  
Frodo tried to protest again. Even in his own weakness he could tell there was something terribly wrong with Sam. His steps were getting weaker, he knew that his dear friend could collapse dead any second. Every step was spelling his doom. He needed water, he needed food, he needed rest. Frodo tried again but his head just lolled and he fell out of consciousness once more. And there was the Ring! Ahh only the Ring! That sweet soothing thing that dragged him away and tempted him. Showed him peace and power. Every time it got a hold of him he wondered why he ever fought it in the first place. Frodo smiled and laughed to himself dileriously.  
  
"Yes- precious-" he muttered. Sam was too incoherent to notice, focussing on taking step after step and forcing back his own thirst.  
  
*Look how weak he is! Is this where you place your hope, Frodo? Look how weak!*  
  
"Weak- precious-" Frodo slurred and Sam pretended to hear, nodding slowly.  
  
*He will die, Frodo. And then there is just us. Just us and I can take you away*  
  
"Die?" Frodo finally began to grasp the words he heard and his smile faded. "No," he whispered horsely.  
  
*Oh of course not, master. Yes master Frodo. He doesn't have to is what I meant. You can save him.*  
  
"I know what you meant. And I know your tricks. Now be gone with you!" Frodo's thoughts raged against the venom of the Ring. He finally became aware of Sam again who seemed to have fallen asleep on his feet. He fought for consciousness long enough to wake Sam. But it seemed all too impossible. If he had thought he defeated the Ring, he was wrong. Quickly, like a snake, it struck him and bit into him releasing its venom once more to course through his veins and his mind made a feeble cry of protest as his head lolled again. 


	2. Dying

Sam coughed violently and tried desperately to muffle the fit. He shifted and Frodo slid about his side, his arm draped over his shoulders and head drooping sleepily. Frodo stired from the fit and tried to lift his head. He managed to catch the weary look in Sam's eyes before Sam realized he was looking.  
  
"You alright- Sam?" Frodo gasped, free for the moment of the Ring's poison.  
  
"Fine, sir, just some dust got stuck in my throat is all." Sam cleared his throat best he could but his voice seemed sapped of all energy and life.  
  
Frodo nodded but the nod wasted his energy and his head was once more leaning heavily on his breast. Frodo could feel the change in Sam's step, it had begun strong and sturdy supported both of the hobbits as they trudged through Mordor. Now it had lagged, become weak and shakey, each step tortorous, planting his feet then tearing them up again. His back slouched and Frodo could feel his own weak body shift unsteadily. Oh how he wished he could walk on his own, but his mind seemed to have let go of his body for the time being. And dear faithful Samwise carrying the both of them, dragging in noble silence, he truly was a stouthearted hobbit. But blind, so blind to think that they would survive this, so blind- no- no it was terrible to think of. Of course they'd survive, but what of his own life, Frodo did not care for his own life any longer, he had died long ago, a spiritless body pursuing a mission begun in life, a ghost forever sentanced to carry out his tortorous task, even in death. But Sam. He deserved life. He deserved life and so much more. And life is what he could return to. He could and he would. Frodo was determined of that.  
  
It was halfway through those thoughts that Frodo realized they had stopped. Come to a complete standstill, Sam's body wavering. He tried hard to look up.  
  
"Sam?"  
  
There was no answer. Sam's body swayed for a moment then collapsed. Frodo gasped, being the most conscious of the two and tried to regain his own footing, but Sam dragged him down. Frodo coughed, finding himself face down in the dust, now fully awake. He leapt to his feet, strength denying him and fell to his knees again. He struggled to stay kneeling and reached over to his dear friend.  
  
"Sam! Wake up, Sam!"  
  
Sam's eyes flicked open and he struggled to turn. "Mr. Frodo! Me dear what have I done! Oh I'm just a foolish ninnyhammer I swear! Don't know what came over me sir." Sam found that in his struggle to get up he was losing all the more energy to speak.  
  
Frodo detected the drain in his voice. "Shh, Sam," he soothed, "We'll rest here. We're both tired and it's not fair of me to make you do all this work."  
  
"Work, sir? Oh no. It's no trouble- it's no-" Sam was cut off by another fit of ragged coughing. Frodo cringed at the sound.  
  
"I don't think you're well, Sam."  
  
"I'm well! It's you who I should worry about not the other way around. Now lay down and let your Sam take-" he suppresed another bout of coughing and continued, "care of you."  
  
Frodo tried to protest but he felt his knees cave on him and before he knew it he was falling backward, back, back into dark dreams. The world seemed to reel and darkness soon filled his vision, his last sight was Sam's worried face over him and last heard his scratchy voice fall into another bout of coughing. Weak arms wrapped around him easing his fall but not quite catching him and he heard another loud thud at his side. The coughing filled his ears and Frodo knew no more.  
  
____________  
  
Frodo blinked, the sky spun above him. He shiverred aware of a small bit of warmth across his chest. He looked down and saw Sam's limp arm slung across him. Remembering the fall Frodo turned and saw Sam sleeping uneasily beside him. He pushed himself into a sitting position ignoring the world as it spun.  
  
"He's sick. I knew it," Frodo whispered, laying Sam's arm under his cheek like a sleeping child.  
  
Frodo fought the darkness and the weakness that lay like a heavy blanket of snow over him, chilling him to the bone and draining all life from him. His arms and legs were stiff to move and his body protested every motion, his mind screaming. He squeezed his eyes shut forcing back the pain. As he pushed himself up his arm slipped and he fell back down to his side. This crash evidently woke Sam. As Frodo lie he was face to face with a wide awake Sam staring straight into his frightened, round eyes.  
  
"Oh, Mr. Frodo! Don't try an' get up! You'll hurt yourself!" Sam fussed trying the same in vein. He slipped as well and fell back into coughing fits which now tore at his sore and red throat.  
  
"See, you're sick! And as terrible as it seems I appear to be better off than you. Now let *me* take care of *you* for once." Frodo forced himself up hiding the face of agony that shot through him with every movement.  
  
"No-" Sam coughed out the sentance, "Hurt- yourself- Frodo- No!"  
  
"Oh hush," Frodo tried to say sternly but it came out weak. He crawled to Sam's pack and reached in for the lembas and canteen. When he turned back around Sam was slouched against the stone wall, curling deep within a fissure in the rocks, eyes half open, forcing back sleep. Frodo examined the way the rock jutted out over the small protection and decided they would never fit deep enough to be secure. But the small outcrop could provide a small amount of protection and it was the best they would ever seem to get.  
  
Frodo felt his legs weaken and was now sure of the fact that they were going no where soon. "Come now, Sam, we can't go on with both of us like this."  
  
Sam tried to answer but barely a squeak came out, his head lolled and fell heavily onto his breast. He struggled to raise it again. "No-" he said weakly, "Fine- not- thirsty-"  
  
"With a cough like that?" Frodo tried to laugh but the sound was drained. He put the canteen to Sam's lips but he refused to drink.  
  
"No- you-"  
  
Frodo frowned, "Come now, Sam, you have to drink. How do you plan to survive?" He pressed the canteen harder to his lips like force feeding a stubborn child.  
  
Sam turned away, "Saving- water- for you-"  
  
Frodo backed away, horrified, "When was the last time you drank?" his voice quiverring. He was in complete terror to the fact that Sam was not drinking any water. Saving all the water for him, that was perpostorous and, apparently, just the thing sweet, foolish Sam would do.  
  
Sam did not look up, he just suppressed a tiny cough and kept away from the temptation of water. How long had it been, a few days now most likely? How long could one last without water anyway? Well being a gardener he knew nothing could last without water long. But he was no daisy or snap-dragon, he was a hobbit whose master needed water more than he, surely he could go on longer, much longer, forever! This he resolved. Forever if he must!.  
  
"How long!" Frodo cried.  
  
Sam weezed, "Few- days-"  
  
"Oh, Sam! You'll be the death of yourself! Why you'll be dead by tomorrow if you were lucky!"  
  
Sam did not answer, he knew his master was just worrying for his own sake. Good old Frodo, that's what he'd do alright. Worry if he stubbed his toe as well most likely. What was a little water? And what was a little food? It had been even longer since he consumed the lembas. Perhaps weeks even. But wonderful Frodo would not have that, if he knew, if he knew. Sam almost grinned pathetically, "No need, sir- I'm fine- you drink-" If somewhere in his dilerious mind he thought Frodo would take such a comment as sincerity he was truly sick. Frodo frowned but the vision of his kind master was blurring, Sam's eyes went in and out of focus.  
  
"Sam?" Frodo's voice shook with concern.  
  
"Yessir-" The word was slurred and fell into a whisper as Sam's head drooped and he fell into unconsciousness.  
  
Frodo put his hand to Sam's forehead and pulled away, his face reflecting horror and worry. The young hobbit was burning inside and he lie deathly still. Frodo leaned over putting his ear to Sam's chest, relieved to hear a soft flutter of heart and the shallow breaths shaking in and out. He sat back up, ignoring his own weakness which would have surely overwhelmed him if his Sam did not need him at that moment. He cradled Sam's head in his arm and put the canteen to his lips. Like a small infant he fed Sam and let him finish the canteen, something Sam would have never consented to if he was awake. When the canteen was drained Frodo folded it up and hoped to find some source of water close enough for him to survive the journey there and back. Slowly he gathered up what was left of his strength and scrambled to his feet. He glanced back to Sam's sleeping form.  
  
"I'll be right back, please don't wake up," he whispered. Frodo knew that even lost in fever and fits of dilerium Sam would insist on following him to the ends of the earth, if he had to crawl and drag his own body to do so. Dear sweet Sam. Frodo stopped his shaking knees and gripped at the chain around his neck. It felt as if someone had attached a humongous bolder to a chain and tied it around his neck. He held tight to it like a rope of support and slowly, ever so slowly made each painful step forward.  
  
When Frodo saw the stream in the distance he thought it a meer trick of his mind. His legs dragged under him as if moved by some unseen force, another stronger force pressed down on him and between the two forces he felt as if he were to be smashed like a small bug under a cave trolls stoney foot. He sagged and fell to his face, it must have been the fourth time along that journey he stumbled and got a mouthful of dust. But like every time he thought of Sam, lying weak and helpless against that rock and struggled on. It's what Sam would do for him.  
  
So on he went and though the stream was only a few feet away it felt like leagues before he would ever reach it. He struggled forward and stumbled, his feet tangling together and then dipped out of the solid land and into something wet. Instead of the familiar dry dust, an oily water filled his mouth. He jerked his head up gasping. Water!  
  
The water was a bit foul with a tart oily tang to it. It was not clear and trickled very little from a crack in the dry stones into the small pool below. But to Frodo it was a silver stream from a thousand sweet spring rains in the Shire bursting forth from the ground like a fountain of pure light and life. He dipped his hands in and drank to his fill. Then he filled the canteen to the brim and bathed his face. Basking in the coolness of this blessed gift. He closed his eyes and dreamt of the Shire. Thoughts of Sam passed his eyes and this forced him back to his feet again full of a new vigor. Now with a more confident stride, aside from the terrible weight about his neck, Frodo made his way back to Sam's side.  
  
Frodo was almost to where he had left Sam, he could see the small fissure in the rocks in the distance. Sam was surely laying where he was left. But something caught Frodo's keen ears and his stride became a canter as he sped to where he left Sam.  
  
"Mr. Frodo! Frodo! Where are you!" 


	3. Giving In

"Sam! Coming, don't be frightened!" Frodo remembered saying the same long ago, what felt like an age ago. A small Samwise was frightened of imagined demons at Bag-End one day. He had to protect little Sam then. He had to help him now.  
  
When he found Sam he was still lying against the rock wall but his eyes were clenched in pain. His back arched and his arms tight to his sides. "Oh please don't leave me!" he cried.  
  
Frodo fell to his knees and put his hand to Sam's forehead, "Shh, it's just a dream. Shh."  
  
Sam's eyes fluttered open and his body eased. He looked around wildly until his vision settled on his master. "Frodo?"  
  
Frodo nodded holding in his tears, "I'm here, Sam."  
  
"I dreamt they took you away."  
  
"Who?"  
  
Sam gulped and looked away, "Nuthin, sir. I was just dreamin' is all."  
  
"I know, Sam, but tell me."  
  
"It don't make no sense."  
  
"Dreams never do," Frodo soothed tearing a piece of his sleeve and folding it into a long band. He soaked it in the water and wrapped it around Sam's burning forehead. Sam barely took notice to Frodo's ministrations, too frightened by the dream and delirious by the fever. Lack of water effected his wits as well as energy and sight, his mind clouding dreams and reality blurring.  
  
"The elves."  
  
Frodo tried to hide his surprise, "Why would they take me away from you?"  
  
"I don't know," Sam turned away blushing at his own foolishness. "I told you it don't make no sense."  
  
"Shh, not true, Sam. I'm sure the elves weren't trying to hurt me, or you."  
  
"Course not," Sam was almost offended by the thought. "But they- they did, take you away that is. An' I was standin' alone on all this sand. It was like the end a' the world, sir, if you follow. Like there was nothin' beyond that but one big river. So very big. It was all water, just water. Out as far as the eye could see, that's how much water there was. An' that's where you went, an' I couldn't follow. You said I couldn't."  
  
"Well hush now, don't think about it. You have a bit of a fever you know. Here have a drink." Frodo pulled out the canteen.  
  
Sam's eyes widened. By his own memory there was only enough left in that canteen for one. He backed away. "No, sir. You can have it."  
  
"Now, Sam," Frodo was growing agitated and very concerned. "You old fool, you haven't been drinking have you. All that time I was too weak to even notice. You know if I had any say in it, I would have never let you give it all to me."  
  
"Yes sir, but you are carryin' that-" Sam stopped. "Well, it would still do me better to see you have it. Then I'll go refill it." Sam made to stand, unaware of his own weakness and fell back to his knees, the world reeling, his vision blurring again. Frodo darted to his side and eased Sam to the ground. He looked into those round eyes now clouded and unfocussed.  
  
"Sam? Sam!"  
  
Sam's head lolled and he looked about blindly.  
  
"Can you see me, Sam! Can you hear me!"  
  
Sam's hand gripped Frodo's shoulder deperately as if letting go would mean him falling into a dark abyss. "Mr. Frodo? You sound so far away. Where are you?"  
  
This is what you get for not drinking you old fool! Frodo wanted to shout. Without water how did you expect to survive? But he kept stern ignoring his own strength draining. He pushed back Sam's curls in an effort to comfort the hobbit. "Shh. Here, Sam."  
  
He set Sam down and lay himself down beside him. He clenched Sam's hand tightly showing him he was not about to leave him. Frodo wanted to stand and get the canteen. The only way to save Sam would be to nurse his strength back. But Frodo found that he had used more strength than possible in seeking the water and taking care of Sam. He did not let on how exhausted he was, how he felt his own very life draining out of him. Sam's grip loosened, he was calm, the world seemed to have stopped reeling for him but he looked about blindly.  
  
"Frodo?"  
  
"Shh. I'm still here, Sam."  
  
"Tell me a story." Sam's voice was that of the young hobbit-lad that Frodo knew so long ago. That bounded into his room in Bag-End and bounced on the bed, sandy curls flailing about his head, bright sunny face beaming, asking questions about elves and magic.  
  
"Alright, Sam. About elves?"  
  
Sam shook his head. "Shire-" he rasped quietly.  
  
Frodo thought for a long time. The Shire. Even the very name seemed strange and foreign to him. He couldn't remember the Shire. The woods, feilds, and streams seemed but a shadow in his memory. The perfume of Spring did not linger long in his mind and the crisp Autumn air was but a myth to him. There was no more warm sun, or humbling stars, or glowing moon, or sweet flowers. Just this darkness. Darkness and madness and forever torment in this web of doom. He could feel tightening round and round him. Like some demented spider with too much silk. Just spinning round and round, round and round. Blocking out all light, round and round. Blocking out all sound, round and round. Blocking out all fragrance all knowledge all sanity, round and round and round.  
  
Frodo felt his head spin, darkness gathering in his mind. Inside of him he felt fragile glass and spinning wires. The glass stood so still, images that seemed now false of who Frodo Baggins once was. Just images, lies, mirrors. Not him, no never truly him. And wires, oh so many like the spider silk that strangled him. And they were wrapped dangerously round the glass, so close that a light breath could be destruction. And the wires tightened. They were pulled tighter and tighter, they twang in strain, and he writhed in pain. Pulling him this way, tearing him that way. Suddenly the maddening merry-go-round came to a mindsplitting halt.  
  
"Sir?" Sam groped blindly about him till his hand came to rest on a trembling Frodo breaking him out of his maddening reverie.  
  
Frodo sucked in his breath gathering his slowly dissipating mind and began as best he could. "Can you see Bag-End, Sam? The green grass, and the golden feilds behind. The bright blue sky and the warm sun. The birds are singing, it's bright early morning. And the gardens, Sam, can you see them? So bright and beautiful. Each flower treated like a precious jewel." Frodo groped around the small pieces of glass, the mirror images of what once was there. He looked on the place that was so distant to him now and he felt nothing. No warmth or longing to this place he had once loved so dearly. This place he was risking his very life to save. No, that was Frodo. Frodo lived there, loved that land, wanted to save it. 'And you old fool you died trying didn't you.' A voice in Frodo's mind whispered though whether it was the Ring or himself he knew not, nor did he care.  
  
Sam smiled, "I can smell the flowers." His eyes were wide open but somewhat clouded and partially crossed as a blind man's. Frodo gazed at Sam coldly, emotion slowly filtering back into him like water through a small crack in a dam. He cupped Sam's gentle face and ran his fingers along his pale, parched skin. He gazed into Sam's eyes as they betrayed their master, one roving too far to the left the other twitching towards the sky. Frodo sighed, 'No control over muscles. I wonder if it'll last.' He felt tears welling up in his own eyes. 'Oh Sam! Look what you've done to yourself! And on my account! You could have lived, Sam! You had a chance! Why waste yourself on me? For I am already dead.' Tears ran down Frodo's ashen cheeks.  
  
"What about the sun, Sam, can you remember that? Can you see it? Feel it?" He was hungry for this lost knowledge. Who was Frodo Baggins, did the sun once shine on him? What did it feel like?  
  
Sam closed his eyes blissfully, "It's warm."  
  
"And Bilbo?" Ah yes his dear uncle. His guardian, his father. He had taken him in, cared for him. Surely this was someone the former Frodo Baggins held dear.  
  
Now Sam continued to paint the picture for Frodo. "Yes, I can see him through the window. He's sittin' at the study, writin' in his red book. Oh I'd like to read that book one day. He learned me my letters ya know. An' I can see his nephew. I can see 'im. He's sittin' in the garden, readin'. He always liked to read. He was always so wise, he was."  
  
Frodo clenched his eyes shut tears running down his face. "No, I bet he was an old fool. Taking up too much for him. Bringing all sorts of harm onto those that loved him, how he probably wanted to live. Just live in the Shire, but he also wanted to save it. And in it all those that he loved most were the ones to be harmed. He was just an old fool that couldn't even gather his strength to get a canteen for a dying friend. Old fool."  
  
Sam's body tensed, his grip tightened angrily, "No! No, he wasn't. He was the best hobbit in the Shire! Mr. Gandalf an' Mr. Bilbo think so too. He was not a fool! You take it back! Take it back, he was no fool!"  
  
Frodo was quiet letting his tears fall silently and Sam drained his energy until sleep won him. Sleep never found Frodo, as exhausted as he was. His body would not comply with any movement, he lay very still, every breath a strain. His chest felt as if it were to be crushed under the weight of the world and he gasped a few times losing breath. His mind and body fell apart again, barely able to stay together in Sam's time of need. How could he help Sam now? He lie in utter misery and agony. He struggled to keep his mind from slipping away, to those dark thoughts, those dark dreams. Sam would not beable to drag him out. What would come of them both, if he let go? Frodo shiverred and dragged himself back to reality by biting mercilessly on his lip until the salty taste of blood filled his mouth. The pain in his mouth barely lessened that on his mind but it gave him the bitter sense of reality instead of the false promises of power whispering in his mind.  
  
"Oh please, Sam. I can't hold on. All is lost without you," Frodo murmerred barely audible, or perhaps he did not say it at all, just in his mind, he could not recall.  
  
He became aware of another voice in his mind. Smooth and venemous, like a snake's hiss in his ears. He grinned madly at the familiar, comforting sound of tantalizing dreams. Dreams of power, dreams of the Ring, and a soft voice coaxing him.  
  
*Let go, Frodo, just let go. It hurts I know, oh how much it pains you. So needlessly do you suffer.*  
  
"Yes- precious- so much pain-" Frodo stopped himself and frowned again, "N- no-"  
  
*Yesss! Your body is giving up. Oh just give in or you will surely die. You don't want to die, do you Frodo?*  
  
"No- don't want to die-"  
  
*Look at you now, too weak to move, to breathe, to save your friend. You can't save him can you Frodo, hard as you try, until you use up every last drop of strength you have left in you, until there is none left, even to breathe. You have a good heart Frodo, you want to save him, you want him to live, don't you?*  
  
"Of course!" Frodo cried.  
  
*You cannot help him like this. If you fight it, you will both die, stop fighting, for Sam. Save him, Frodo! Save Sam! He'd do it for you! He'd save you! Why won't you even try to save him? Do you want him to die, Frodo? He's dying. He's dying now, Frodo. You can save him. You can.*  
  
Frodo moaned.  
  
*You don't want to save him. You want him to die. He's dying and you don't care.*  
  
"I do! I do!"  
  
*Then help him, Frodo! Give in! Save him!*  
  
"I can't."  
  
*You can! Put it on! Put on the Ring! Save him! You can! You can!*  
  
"I can?"  
  
*You can!*  
  
"I will."  
  
*For Sam.*  
  
"For Sam" 


	4. Resisting

Frodo struggled, fumbling the silver chain around his fingers. His eyes clenched shut tight. His fingers found the ring. Touched its cool, smooth surface. He could see it, burning in his mind. All was so clear now. The ring, the fire, the power. He ran his fingers along the cool, soothing surface. He was trembling. Some part of him still protested, but it was silenced. Just then a sound broke through his dreams.  
  
"Don't let go, Frodo! Oh please, sir! Hold on! Just hold on!"  
  
"Sam?"  
  
"Don't leave me! Come back! Oh please don't leave me all alone! Come back!"  
  
Frodo felt torn and as both forces in him were about to tear him in two he woke. His eyes searched about frantically, the ring still grasped between his fingers, the chain in tangles. He was breathing ragged, so drained, so weak. He tried to turn his head when he heard the cries again.  
  
"Come back to me! Don't go without your Sam, don't leave me! I'm coming!"  
  
Frodo turned and saw Sam, still asleep by his side, dreaming. He was screaming in his terrible tormented nightmares. Frodo stirred and whispered to Sam, his voice lost of all light and life.  
  
"S-Sam, here, S-Sam." He tried to soothe the fevered hobbit though his own voice was trembling.  
  
The younger hobbit stopped screaming but he whimpered in his sleep, still tormented, tossing his head frantically from side to side. He murmerred lightly his words barely audible, "I-I made- promise- Mr. Frodo- promised that I- I- promised-"  
  
"It's alright, Sam. You- you saved me. You br-" Frodo tried to cease the terrible gasping of his voice, "brought me back."  
  
Sam calmed and Frodo could hear his breathing slow. It was shallow and raspy but not so frantic and gasping any longer. Frodo sighed and lay back. He wouldn't go back to sleep, back to those deceitful dreams.  
  
"You haven't won yet," he muttered, speaking to the Ring.  
  
Frodo could not enjoy the silence, constantly reminded of Sam's danger as he heard the uneven, shallow breaths shattering through the silent air. Frodo cringed with every breath, wincing by his own intake of breath, like sharp knives pricking at his chest. But his heart broke with each pathetic struggle of life from Sam. After another moment he could take no more and knew he had to help Sam.  
  
Frodo rolled over to his side and muffled a cry of pain. His sight blurred yet he knew his destination. He dragged his limp body towards the canteen. It was still full and he brought it to Sam's lips. Sam began to drink and his thirst was evident. In sleep his mind could not protest and his body knew what it needed.  
  
"Good, Sam. Yes dear, drink. All you need," Frodo soothed pushing back the hobbit's curls. He examined Sam's face, his cheeks sunken slightly. Frodo sighed. He lifted one of Sam's limp hands and checked the skin between his thumb and finger. It was pinched in slightly and Frodo shook his head. A definate sign of dehydration that was cause for great alarm.  
  
Frodo let Sam drain the canteen and as he was about to pull it away from Sam's lips he heard a faint sigh. He looked down and saw Sam looking wearily up at him.  
  
"Can you see me?" Frodo whispered.  
  
Sam nodded slightly, "Blurry. What- a-about- you?" He motioned to the canteen.  
  
Frodo smiled and lifted the empty canteen to his lips pretending to take a huge gulp then set it down. Sam smiled slightly and nodded. "Thank you- Mister- Frodo-"  
  
"Just get your rest, Sam."  
  
"N-no," Sam whispered, his voice a small raspy shred, greatly slurred. "Got to- got to go- orcs-" Sam tried to turn but moaned and coughed.  
  
"No orcs. Not yet anyway. Just take your rest, Sam."  
  
"N-" Sam began again but his strength was wasted and he sagged falling back into dreams.  
  
Frodo sighed and realized that he would need to refill the canteen once more. He felt his body shiver and twitch at the thought of another journey. He would surely die if he tried. But he had to. Sam saved him, though nonintentionally this time, but held him to life, kept him always one small step ahead of madness, just his very precense was saving him and for that Frodo owed him his life. Now he needed to save Sam. With that last resolve Frodo clambered to his feet and gripped the canteen tightly in his fist. He began again the long, tortorous journey back to the stream for water. How Sam managed to drain a canteen meant to last for days so quickly Frodo couldn't guess but the whole long journey to the stream and back Frodo tried to convince himself it was a good sign. Sam's body was accepting the water and his mind did little to protest. He even regained control over his muscles, his eyes did not stray or cross and seemed to focus just a little more. Just a little was good enough. ___________________  
  
Frodo didn't know how he made it to the stream and back alive. He kept his hopes alive and his mind set on the one task and now that it was done his strength was gone. When he returned Sam still slept where he was left. He seemed a bit more peaceful now, his breathing not so labored. Frodo's had gotten worse though, and he fell to his knees gasping. His shoulders heaved and his breath was cut short. His thoat contracted stopping the air from reaching his lungs. Blackness clouded his vision, he couldn't breathe. The canteen fell to the ground, darkness ensued.  
  
~~~  
  
Frodo looked around. The small cave that was their meager form of protection was filled with blackness. It must have been night in those bleak lands. He sat up and searched for Sam frantically. He saw the canteen on the ground and snatched it up. He bounded towards the wall where he had left Sam. Amazingly Sam was still asleep, very calm, very still. Frodo knelt by his side and stroked the young hobbit's fevered brow. He drew in an unsteady breath as Frodo opened the canteen.  
  
"Here you are, drink up," he whispered.  
  
Sam opened his eyes and stared at Frodo almost shocked. "You are not my master."  
  
"Of course I am, Sam." Frodo tipped the canteen to Sam's lips and poured some of the cool liquid into his mouth.  
  
Sam spat it in Frodo's face. "You are not my master!" he shouted.  
  
"No, Sam! Don't waste the water!" Frodo almost sobbed at the thought of yet another back breaking trip.  
  
Sam's eyes smouldered, "You can't fool me! You dark wretched creature! You are not my master! You are not Mr. Frodo! He died! And you killed him!"  
  
Frodo trembled, "No, Sam, I am. I am Frodo."  
  
"You cannot be my master! You let him die! You are weak, and you will break! You dissapoint me, you dissapoint us all! And you will be our doom! Fool! How could they have ever trusted the likes of you with such a burden! You'll just fail! Fail miserably because of you're own weakness!"  
  
Frodo trembled, eyes wide with fear burning with tears. Sam's words hurt so much Frodo could feel them digging into him. He choked, "Please. Sam, I didn't- mean to- it's just- it calls me- it-"  
  
Sam spat at him again, "Shut up! Just shut up! You lying fool! You are too filled with your own self-pity to care about any of us! Let me die! Let me die now! What use will it be to live in a world that you have destroyed because you were too weak!" Sam raged, "Away with you! Be gone you dark wretch! Slink away like the Gollum that you are! You will betray us! You will succumb to the ring!"  
  
Frodo fell to his knees sobbing, "Never, never!" Sam's words hurt so much. He could feel them burn into him, pierce his very soul. Oh, how it hurt, he felt his throat constrict, his eyes sting.  
  
Sam stood, much taller than he ever was, his shadow stretched over Frodo. "Yess! You will! Use it! Use it!"  
  
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll fail! I'll fail! But I have to fight it! I won't use it!"  
  
"You will die if you don't! Use it!"  
  
Frodo clamped his hands over his ears shaking his head violantly. "No, never!"  
  
There was a drumming, the earth trembled. Drums. Drums. Sam turned. "Orcs!"  
  
Frodo looked up everything was spinning. The world reeled and knocked him down. The sound of Sam's voice still loud in his ears.  
  
"You will betray us!"  
  
"No," Frodo murmerred.  
  
"You will! You will!"  
  
"I won't!"  
  
His voice suddenly changed.  
  
"Orcs! Orcs, Mr. Frodo! We've got to get out! We've got to- got to-"  
  
Frodo opened his eyes. A dream. Just a dream. But Sam was still shouting. He bolted upright and saw Sam stuggling in sleep shouting and crying. Frodo struggled to his feet and ran to Sam's side.  
  
"Shh, Sam, there aren't any orcs."  
  
Sam did not cease, he cried louder gripping Frodo, "Run! Leave me!"  
  
Frodo was about to protest when he heard it as well. Drums. Beating. The rhythmic thud of metal shod boots above them. "Shh, Sam, they won't find us if we're quiet." Sam whimpered his eyes rolling back. He tried to look up but his muscles could barely obey.  
  
"Shh, Sam." Frodo was gripping Sam's shoulder supporting him with his other arm. Both waited for the march above them to silence. Frodo caught his heart in his throat. What if they were found? Sam in his condition, he'd die, if he wasn't killed first. Frodo looked down at the trembling hobbit, frightened and confused. He caught Sam's eyes roll back, his body sagged but he stayed conscious.  
  
"Come, Sam," Frodo sat him upright. "Drink for me."  
  
He held the canteen to Sam's mouth and he drank, just a bit. After a few gulps he clenched his lips and a few drops slid down his jaw.  
  
"Now Sam, more, please. Just a little bit more."  
  
Sam shook his head, "You-"  
  
"I've had some."  
  
"Liar-"  
  
Frodo smiled affectionately, "Oh dear Sam, you're right, ok." He had to admit he hadn't had any water since his last trip to the stream. He drank it down thankful for the blessed liquid.  
  
He pulled the canteen away and handed it back to Sam, "Now you."  
  
Sam lifted a hand to grip it but his arm fell limp at his side. He looked up at Frodo with pleading eyes, "What-"  
  
Frodo tilted the canteen to Sam's lips again, "Shh, don't strain yourself."  
  
Sam sat up almost choking on the water, "Strain *myself*!?" He coughed.  
  
Frodo closed the canteen and listened intently. The drums pounding above them silenced and he felt his strength give way again. He tried not to let on. "You almost dehydrated yourself, fool," Frodo murmerred.  
  
Sam averted his eyes, "I-" He saw the canteen in Frodo's hands. "I thought that was empty."  
  
Frodo shook it, the water sloshed about in it. "I refilled it."  
  
Sam's eyes widened but he could find nothing to say. He became suddenly aware of something wet on his head. He tried to lift a hand to it but his arm just twitched slightly. His head lolled and he struggled to keep awake. "My- my head."  
  
Frodo put his hand to the cloth wrapped around Sam's forehead. He untied it and dipped it back in the cool water. His fever had gone down significantly but he was still warm. He tied it back around as Sam's head drooped and rested on his breast.  
  
"Sleep now," Frodo whispered and eased Sam back down.  
  
He looked out at the bleak lands before him despair filling him. The ring still whispered in his mind. His dream was right. He was no longer Frodo. His old self gripped desperately to that broken body to save Sam. Once Sam was well he would become weak and incoherent again. He already felt himself letting go. The ring consuming his mind. He hoped Sam would be well in time to save him from himself. From the ring's temptations. His hands trembled, creeping to his neck. He bit down on his lip and shoved his hands back into his pockets. His body shook and he lay down next to Sam's sleeping form. He looked at the young hobbit, feeling a smile tug at his lips.  
  
"As long as I've got you, Sam, I won't let go. Hold me to this world, keep me to my quest." 


	5. Identity

Frodo woke from an uneasy slumber. When had he dozed off? He looked down at the ring clasped tightly in his hand as if he were afraid someone would steal it, or it would somehow disappear. His fingers gently stroked the cool metal and ran along the silver chain. He cocked his head and gazed at it sleepily. The faded light of the Mordor sun reflected like fire off of the golden band and as he played with it it shot small beams of red light in his eyes, blinding him. He smiled at it and he could no longer hear himself thinking, no longer hear the voice of reason in his head, the voice of Frodo Baggins. It was calming in a way, to be able to be so amused and get so lost in the simplicity of light and gold flickering innocently in his hand. His fingers ran along the outer surface. It was smooth and cool and almost tantalizing. It drew him in, deeper, deeper. Like water surrounding him, pulling him down, down into the deep. He rolled his head about trying to catch a glimpse of the light at different angles. Slowly, fluidly, his head moved about his neck, craning left, right, down, down into the deep. For a while he heard nothing and the silence burned his ears. His finger slowly rolled about the inside dangerously close, almost through it. It was like dancing upon a cliff and at the end was a sheer plummet into darkness. But with the danger came a thrilling sensation, like adrenaline pumping through your veins. Dancing with death. Dancing with doom and evil and danger and coming so close you could taste it, feel it, reach out and touch it. And then pull back right when your heart jumps and almost stops completely in fear of falling. And so his finger danced along the edge, closer, closer to filling the empty circle with his flesh. Closer, closer still and then back around again to feel the outer surface of gold. He smiled and laughed deliriously.  
  
"It's a game- precious- just a game-" He muttered between stifled laughs.  
  
His finger ran along the surface and he watched the ring flicker and glint, the red light blinding his eyes. There was nothing in his head, nothing going on in his mind, just blank darkness and it felt so good! So good not to feel fear and pain and anguish! So good not to wonder what would happen next, if the next step would be his last, what would happen if he should fail. So good not to think about the danger just feel it grow closer and closer and not have to care. There were no more innocent lives hanging in the balance, no more beloved friends trusting in him to do this task! This terrible, heart-wrenching, mind-tearing task! Why him? What had he done to deserve all of this pain? This terrible burden? Why did they ask him to do it? No! They weren't friends! If they cared at all about him they would have never asked him to do this task! They would have never let him bear this burden!  
  
"It's not fair, is it?" He said to the Ring, "You and I have a lot in common." He held it up on the tip of his finger, dangerously close, but not through it yet. He held it almost carelessly as Tom Bombadil had. "No one wants us. It's as if they want us both destroyed now isn't it. For that's what will happen to me when- if! I destroy you. Oh yes now, there's still a chance, do not be frightened. You must always- always-" He thought for a moment. What was it he was saying? His mind wandered. He looked back at the Ring.  
  
"Eh? What was it I was saying now? Oh yes! Don't give up hope. You've still got a chance, you know, I haven't destroyed you yet. Oh! And I'm terribly sorry about it! I really feel terrible!"  
  
"We are so alike. Just look you are empty. So empty. Just an empty space in you that needs to be filled. Craves to be filled." He rolled the ring about on his finger. "And I as well. There is emptiness inside of me. I could fill yours. Yes, easily I could fill yours. And I would. And I will. But could you fill mine?"  
  
The Ring only flickered in response. The red light danced in Frodo's vision and he rolled his head about his neck again and smirked. "There now, do not be so sad. Why don't you talk to me?" He wondered why there was no soothing voice in his head, numbing his mind. But it didn't matter, it felt numb as it was, as if the poison would never leave now. Oh, he wished it so! "I hope it never leaves," he said, "I don't want to go back-" he glanced around almost feeling the poison wearing off again, "No! I don't want to be him any more! Frodo's gone! Gone I say! He felt pain! I don't want to be him!" he cried frantically feeling his mind start to come back. "Talk to me! Tell me what I want to hear! Promise me! Promise me!"  
  
*Promise you what, Frodo?*  
  
Frodo sighed and slunk back into his mindless stupor. "Ah, yes- that's it precious-"  
  
*So you need me now, don't you?*  
  
"Yes- precious-"  
  
*Ah yes so it seems. But do you know, Frodo?*  
  
"What?" Frodo smiled lolling his head back and forth as if listening to a hypnotizing melody.  
  
*I need you too.*  
  
"You do?"  
  
*Yes. I need you to do something for me. Would you do something for me, Frodo?*  
  
"Oh yes- precious- anything-"  
  
*Fill my emptiness. And I promise I will fill yours.*  
  
"I will! I will! Will you promise me?"  
  
*I promise you peace of body and mind. Would you like that, Frodo?*  
  
"Yes- Frodo would like that-" Frodo leaned back toying with the Ring, a wicked, naïve smile curled on his lips.  
  
*I promise you light and a new day. Would you like that, Frodo?*  
  
"Oh yes- he would- very much- precious- Frodo would-" Frodo nodded, blinking slowly.  
  
*I promise you safety and power. Would you like power, Frodo?*  
  
Frodo just smiled and lolled his head as if being put in a trance by a captivating melody ringing in his ears.  
  
*Would you?*  
  
Frodo thought for a moment, "Yes- safety- power-"  
  
But somewhere deep inside Frodo's mind a voice whispered like the frail murmurs of a dying wind, "No! Please Elbereth No!" But whatever it was it was unheeded.  
  
*I promise you no more pain. No more suffering.*  
  
"No more pain for Frodo- and-" Frodo trailed off not sure where to go from there.  
  
*No more pain for anyone. Not Frodo. Not Sam. Not Bilbo or Pippin or Merry or Strider or any other. Just peace. Are these the things Frodo wants? Are these the things Frodo desires?*  
  
"These are the things Frodo wants- Frodo would be pleased-" nodded the hobbit as he slowly drifted into a madness there was no escape from. Falling into a dark pit and no matter how much his true identity clawed and cried and begged there was no escape.  
  
~~~  
  
And this was true. As the hobbit spoke with the soothing voice of the Ring, the real Frodo drifted slowly down into the darkness. He could feel a part of his mind standing on the edge of darkness and as he heard the words spoken he cried out and put his hands to his ears. There was a shake and rumble as the ground gave way under his feet and he fell. He fell and he fell and he fell always the words echoing in his tormented ears. He saw it all. He heard it all and now he could do nothing about it. He saw the insanity grab him. He saw it laugh and heard it speak and heard all the words of the Ring and everything drove him deeper deeper into the blackness. He knew that Sam still needed him. He knew that the world still needed him. And yet he fell. His cries echoed throughout his cell as he hit the ground hard. As quickly as he could he scrambled to his feet and jumped up and down frantically.  
  
"Stop it! Stop it! Oh help! Someone help me! He's gone mad! Mad! I can't stop him!"  
  
He heard. He saw. The Ring came closer, closer. Slowly it would slip around his finger and all would be lost!  
  
"Oh no! Don't! Be gone whoever you are! Return to me my will! That is not me! That is not me!"  
  
He jumped and clawed at the walls till his nails were gritted down and blood stained his prison. His skin tore at the merciless walls and his fingers were slowly worn down. But he did not notice the pain. He knew he had to get out! He had to stop this!  
  
"Demon imposter!" Frodo cried out to the insanity that gripped him, "I would fight you till the end and all of me were destroyed! I would tear at you with no weapon but my own bloodied fingers! If you tore off my arms and legs I would bite you until I could not any more! I would fight till the very end! But this is true torture! To let me live unscathed by you and only bloodied by my own attempts in escape and know! Oh to know what you have done!" Frodo fell to the ground putting his bloody hands to his face and wept.  
  
"Sam! Oh Sam it's up to you now! I can do nothing but watch! Pull me back! Pull me back! So that I may fight!"  
  
~~~  
  
Back in reality Frodo snickered as if amused by the wails and torments of the sanity inside of him. The Ring laughed as well cold and cruel and wicked as venom and now the moment had come and the Ring would win and Frodo, the real Frodo wept in despair.  
  
*You cannot fight any more, Frodo.*  
  
"No- cannot fight-" and there was a terrible laughing and echoed and rang and seethed Frodo's ears as he lay in the darkest confines of his own mind. It pierced him and terrified him. The true sound of corruption and insanity embodied in that terrible laughter and behind it rang the bitter venom of the Ring.  
  
But in that moment, as hope was at its last, the laughter was suddenly cut off by some terrible commotion behind him that made Frodo's body cringe and the monster that took him wail. The sane Frodo looked up, hope gleaming in his eyes and the demon imposter raged. He felt himself being dragged back to reality and he fought it tooth and nail. "No no no!!!" The monster screamed frantically gripping to whatever would hold him in his euphoria. But he felt the poison draining and what it left made Frodo fall to the ground and writhe in torment. His fist gripped around the Ring until his knuckles turned white and he could almost feel it burning into his skin. His back arched and he grit his teeth, his other hand clawing at the ground and scratching at the dirt and stone. His body convulsed as he felt strength and pleasure draining from him leaving behind pain, anguish, terror, doom, shame, guilt, fear, death, despair, dread, panic, misery, disgrace, suffering, torment, torture! Knowledge of what he had done! What he was about to do flooded him and filled him with shame and dishonour. He pleaded to die! He pleaded for it to end! And as his body calmed and he lay on the ground weeping the sound returned to his ears again.  
  
It was a terrible hacking and a dry scratch followed by a gurgle and sputtering. Frodo spun around, his sweat soaked curls flinging in front of his eyes. But through them he saw Sam sitting upright and coughing terribly. The sound hurt Frodo's ears and made his heart shatter. The bitter tears he was crying were replaced by an ocean of pity and overwhelming rains of love and terror for his friend. And these tears quickly washed over the ones of self-pity that stained and tainted his cheeks. He smeared those away with disgust. As quick as he could muster strength and will he darted to Sam's side tripping and stumbling.  
  
Frodo gripped Sam's trembling, heaving shoulders as the bout of coughing continued and he leaned forward and retched. Frodo's eyes widened with horror and dread at what he saw. A wave of blood spurted from Sam's mouth and leaked down his chin. When the coughing had stopped Sam's body fell limp in Frodo's grasp. Quickly Frodo lifted him to see his face and saw the blood all along his lips and chin and neck. His body jerked feebly in small coughs for it was all the energy he could muster to relieve himself of all the blood he had swallowed from his raw throat. Sam's lips were parted partially and a tiny pool of blood was gurgling in his mouth. Frodo leaned him forward again and let Sam cough it out.  
  
When he brought him back to a sitting position and leaned his body into an embrace, Frodo wept and buried his face in Sam's curls. Slowly he felt breath return to Sam as his body moved shakily up and down with each painful gasp of air. Frodo just sobbed into Sam's curls finally falling into despair. He would have stayed like that until he died for there was no more hope, but then he heard a slight, weak whimper and Sam's body twitched feebly. Frodo leaned Sam's head back to look at him and he was met by wide, frightened brown eyes.  
  
"Sam? Oh Sam! Thank Elbereth Sam!" Frodo wrapped his arms tighter around Sam but he heard a cry emit from the younger Hobbit's throat and withdrew. He was met by the same terrified gaze. "Sam? Don't you know me?" Sam just whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut as if expecting certain death.  
  
Frodo's arms slipped from holding Sam and let him rest in his lap. "Sam?" he said softly, "It's your master. No- no it's your friend. I'm your friend, Sam. It's me."  
  
Sam saw the opportunity to try and get away. His captor had released his grasp, why he did not know. He heard his captor say something in a quiet and sorrowful voice but Sam just shook his head and tried to inch away. He twitched and his body hit the floor emitting a small cry from him. He backed away as best he could, slinking along the ground, shaking his head, and always keeping his eyes on his weeping captor.  
  
Frodo held out his hand but could not quell the gasping sobs, "Oh Sam it's me! I wouldn't hurt you!"  
  
Sam felt his back hit the wall and he squirmed for some means of escape. He looked up and around and cried out when he saw no way out. He shook his head and clenched his eyes shut expecting his captor to be infuriated and charge at him. Probably grab him by the hair and lift him reveling in his cries of pain. Probably whip out a sword and slowly cut him open. He tried to lift his hand and it came to his mouth. Blood! He cried out again.  
  
"Sam," Frodo wept trying to come closer to him but not frighten the confused Hobbit. "Come now, Sam dear, I'll never hurt you."  
  
"P- please-" Sam managed to croak and the sound of his weak and parched voice made Frodo's heart twist in agony. "P- please- d- don'- k- kill- m- me-"  
  
Frodo fell to his knees again, "Oh Sam! I'd never! Never, never!"  
  
"W- where- s' Fr-" Sam gurgled and coughed up another spurt of blood, "-odo- "  
  
"It's me, Sam! I'm Frodo!" And with those words Frodo felt something in him shatter. The wires pulled again tighter, tighter! And oh the pain! Frodo saw a white flash as hot pain took him and he faltered. i Frodo! Frodo! I'm Frodo!i Frodo fell back and blinked a few times before Sam came back into focus. He tried to stay his racing mind. He stuttered. "It's- it's Frodo, Sam- Frodo!"  
  
Sam looked about him, confused and frightened. Frodo made his way towards Sam almost blinded by his tears. He fell to his knees at his friend's side. His trembling hands ran along Sam's cheek and blood stained his fingers. Sam winced and gave a muffled cry. "Shh, Sam. Be calm. I won't hurt you. Your iFrodoi won't hurt you."  
  
"B-but your n-not-"  
  
Frodo's lip began to tremble and Sam stared up at him as if trying to come to a decision. "No," Frodo whispered almost to himself, "Maybe. I'm not. maybe it's all for naught. that I truly am dead. but I've got to cling to hope. hold on just a little longer. if I can just hold onto iFrodoi maybe. just maybe he can come back."  
  
Sam's eyes searched Frodo's face but Frodo did not pay him heed any more. He walked over to where he left the flask and returned to a confused Sam. Calmly he went about his ministrations. First, dipping the piece of cloth in the water and wrapping it around Sam's forehead again. Then he dipped his own sleeve in and dabbed at Sam's chin to rid him of the blood. Then he put the canteen to Sam's lips and reluctantly he drank, his eyes never leaving Frodo's face.  
  
"What does tomorrow bring, I wonder," said Frodo flatly, almost as if there was no emotion left in him at all.  
  
Sam made to speak but Frodo silenced him. "Please, it will only make your throat worse." Sam shut his mouth and gazed at Frodo silently. After putting the canteen away he returned to Sam's side. He knelt gingerly and brushed Sam's curls out of his face.  
  
"Rest now. Shall I sing to you? I suppose my voice may sound horrid now. It's been so long since I sang, and I'm afraid there are no songs I can remember. Just one. You sang it in Cirith Ungol. It's all I can remember. Do you remember?" Frodo looked down at Sam. His voice had been soft and just as emotionless and flat which frightened Sam more. Sam did not nod or shake his head, he only kept his frightened gaze on the older Hobbit.  
  
In western lands beneath the Sun  
  
The flowers may rise in Spring,  
  
The trees may bud, the waters run,  
  
The merry finches sing.  
  
Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night  
  
And swaying beeches bear  
  
The Elven-stars as jewels white  
  
Amid their branching hair.  
  
Though here at journey's end I lie  
  
In darkness buried deep,  
  
Beyond all towers strong and high,  
  
Beyond all mountains steep,  
  
Above all shadows rides the Sun  
  
And Stars forever dwell;  
  
I will not say the Day is done,  
  
Nor bid the Stars farewell.  
  
When Frodo looked down and saw Sam's eyelids drooping sleepily. He ran his hand along Sam's hair and made a low click in his throat to sooth him. Sam struggled to stay awake a bit longer but finally succumbed to sleep. His last words were weak and soft and Frodo had to strain to hear them.  
  
"W- will- I see- Mis- 'ister- Fr- 'odo- again?"  
  
Frodo felt the tears fall down his already drenched cheeks. "You may yet, Sam. You may."  
  
As Sam drifted into slumber insanity and hope waged war inside Frodo's small body and he fell to the ground in torment and despair. All he could do now was watch and hope and weep for he knew all was lost.  
  
.And here at journey's end I lie. 


	6. Despair

Frodo opened his eyes to see nothing but darkness and the red glare of the foul Mordor-sun rove above him. He groaned but did not move. His limbs felt lethargic and he was so very tired. For a brief moment he wondered where he was. Shelob? No not that cruel spider, not again! His eyes shot around wildly for a moment and wondered if he had been poisoned. He thought for a moment. "Now Sam will come. He will lean over me and cry. I so hate to see him cry over me. After all it is my fault he's here. My fault all of this happened. Why should he cry because I'm dead, anyway?" Frodo sighed inwardly and waited but no Sam came and he felt terror shoot through him like an even stronger poison.  
  
Frodo's eyes came into focus slowly and he gazed back up at the darkening sky. A small red dot somewhere in the distance.  
  
Above all shadows rides the Sun.  
  
"But.." Frodo thought to himself, "That's isn't the sun if my memory serves me well. But ah, I cannot remember. This strange light pierces me. It- it's not looking at me, is it? No of course not the sun doesn't 'look' at you..." His thoughts trailed off into the nothingness and silence filled his mind with some terrible horror as that of night terrors on starless moonless days.  
  
"Starless and moonless and nothing but darkness. Darkness and a- a red- eye?"  
  
As if a spell released his mind, all the heavy poison surged out of him and a new fear filled his veins. His arm shot out and gripped his breast, twisted around his clothing to claw at what was buried deep under his tunic. His face contorted into that of dread and pain and he writhed on the ground. He grit his teeth and tried to shut his eyes but they wouldn't. His hand clawed deeper into the clothe, into his flesh, grasping the one thing that he both desired and loathed with all of his being.  
  
Where was Sam?!  
  
The gaze was almost on him. He could not fight. He could not fight. But he had to. And with a surging yell that began deep inside of him and wrenched through the air more terrible than that of a Nazqul and yet more despairing than any that has touched mortal ears. A scream of such anguished torture that it would shatter the hearts of even the coldest men and perhaps even orc. A cry that would wake the dead and have them mourn, those that should not mourn but me mourned for would lament in hearing.  
  
It was this scream that brought the real Frodo back from the deepest confines of his mind and jolted him to waking. The monster of insanity stood face to face with him and snarled as they fought for control over the broken and tormented body. Frodo's eyes glazed as his mind fought itself once more and his breaths became stertorous until they were nothing but small strangled gasps. His mouth was wide and choking yet no air could reach his lungs and his nails now dug deep into his chest until he could feel warm droplets of blood dribble down his torso.  
  
~~~  
  
Sam opened his eyes lazily and for a moment he thought he could see the world through a thin grey veil. He blinked a few times but the grey veil did not recede. His eyes roved around slowly and it took some time to gain control over them. His mind worked slowly and piece by piece he gathered his surroundings. Everything ached terribly as if he were recovering from a terrible spell of illness. Wasn't he? He mused for a moment as he twitched his fingers lightly then flexed them firmly. They pained him so! Every muscle was tight and screaming. He tried to think where he was but he seemed always a small step away from knowing. His mind was focussed right now on moving. Slowly his hand braced the hard rock under him and his other arm moved to support himself. He let out a low moan as he maneuvered himself into a sitting position.  
  
For a while darkness clouded his vision and his shook his head like a wet dog. He blinked a few times and the grey veil slowly receded. He let out a long sigh but the breath seemed to fill him with more life than ever before. He looked around slowly but before he could gather his surroundings some pitiful cry filled his ears and brought tears to his eyes immediately.  
  
"Lor' bless me!" he thought, "What a woeful sound! How could any creature live in such pain?" Tears rolled down his cheeks and for a while he could feel them burn in his eyes. He could not remember feeling tears in a long time. There wasn't enough water in him to cry. And now it was as if a dam had broken.  
  
The sound reverberated off the rock walls of the small outcrop and Sam looked about him. He stretched his legs but found that they still were not strong enough to hold him. He gathered himself on his knees and put his hand to the wall to stay his dizziness.  
  
"Now now, Sam Gamgee, steady, steady," he coaxed himself. "As for that sound. What could possibly- oh no." Sam had a sinking feeling in his heart and he knew exactly why. Suddenly he felt he could not stay the dizziness and the world reeled. Frodo! Where was Frodo! Sam tried to gather his strength and will to come to his feet but it was in vain.  
  
"Master! Master me dear!" he cried and fell to his hands his nose barely brushing against the cruel stone. He looked up wearily and found that his task would not be as difficult as thought. For there lay Frodo, his hand clutching his breast and his back arched into a twisted position that would have defined pain without that heartrending wail.  
  
This did it. Sam was on his feet with a will that did not quite feel like his own. He bounded towards his master and fell to his knees stroking the older hobbit's hair. Frodo's eyes saw through Sam at the one red point of light that now pierced him. And he knew not of Sam or any other but the presence of such evil around him and in him. In him! Oh he felt his seer through him like that of a merciless fire always hungry and never relenting, consuming all that was left of his dear innocence and purity. There was a great battle waged in his mind and it seemed that both wills were struck at an impass of destruction. But there came a voice and both creatures that of sanity and insanity became aware of another in reality. Frodo looked up from his stance of holding off the dark creature that fought him.  
  
"Sam!" he cried and there was a great joy in his heart that seemed to consume the darkness as the creature screeched in defeat.  
  
"It iss not over preciouss!" and in that moment of understanding Frodo gaped as the creature faded into the deep confines of his mind. "Gollum?" Frodo whispered and knew no more.  
  
Back in reality Frodo's eyes came back into focus for a short moment and a smile twitched across his contorted face. He felt tears hit him like warm droplets of rain and came to perceive his dear Sam crying over him once again. A shaky hand reached up and stroked Sam's cheek as Frodo trembled with shock and his eyes glazed again.  
  
"I can't fight any more dear Sam. But you're alive. In my mind I have not failed entirely."  
  
"No, Mr. Frodo!" Sam cried, "Don't leave me! We're at the foot of the mountain! Just a little ways to go and then you're free, master! You're free!" Sam sobbed and held Frodo close to him.  
  
Frodo gasped and clenched his heart tighter. Sam noticed the small stain's of blood on his master's tunic and wept all the more. "Sam! The eye, it's on me! He sees me! I cannot-" Frodo trailed off as his hand slowly tore through the tunic like the claw of a wild beast and not the fair hand of Sam's dear master.  
  
It struck Sam. He knew what he must do. He let Frodo lay on the ground so gently and pried the small claw-like hand away from his breast. He gripped both of his master's hands between his now and held them tight. He lay a kiss on each and pressed them to the ground.  
  
*I'm waiting*  
  
"No," muttered Frodo.  
  
Sam just stroked his brow and whispered soothingly, "Hold on, master. It's for the best."  
  
*Come now Frodo, you didn't think you could get rid of me, preciouss.*  
  
"No, I fought you. You're dead." Sam looked down at Frodo bewildered yet he could feel his heart wrench with despair.  
  
*Now now Frodo, love* the voice was angry and held a cold cruelty that made Frodo's heart quail. *Now beloved, you musst lissten to me. We are one and you cannot be rid of me unless you are rid of yoursself, preciouss Frodo*  
  
"Sam," Frodo whispered and the younger hobbit turned his tear filled eyes to his master.  
  
"Yes sir?"  
  
"Take Sting out of my belt."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Just please Sam. Do it. Give me Sting."  
  
Sam obeyed not sure why. He held out Sting and wondered at its elvish beauty. Slowly he turned it to his master and Frodo grasped it violently and desperately. Sam recoiled.  
  
"Mr. Frodo?"  
  
Frodo held the hilt against his breast tightly and trembled. He sucked in a gasp of breath and turned his tear streaked face to Sam. "Walk away, Sam."  
  
"Mr. Frodo! No!"  
  
"Just listen to me Sam!" Frodo screamed his voice harsh and cruel. "Walk away! Turn and run!"  
  
"No, Mr. Frodo I won't leave you!"  
  
"You won't have to then!"  
  
Frodo looked up at the sky once more. His voice lowered into a whisper. "I have to do this." He closed his eyes and let the tears roll down his cheeks. When he opened them again they seemed to be filled with a bitter resolve as he stared at the dark sky. "I just wish I could see the stars.. One last time." His mind continued with what he did not want Sam to hear. "But they would scorn me. Look upon me for the wretch I am and turn away in disgust."  
  
He turned again to Sam. "You see Sam I have to do this. I have honour, Sam, and I do not wish to turn into a monster again! No not again! I won't let him win! And I won't let the Ring win! Promise me Sam! When it's over you'll take the Ring and destroy it! Promise me you'll move on!"  
  
"Don't do this Frodo!" Sam wailed. "Don't do this!"  
  
"I'm sorry Sam. Please. Don't cry for me. I died long ago." 


	7. Gollum Within

"No!" was Sam's final resolve as he took no more heed to what was "proper" or being obedient to his master. He felt rage and love shoot through his veins and fire smoulder in his eyes. He could not let this happen not while he still drew breath. His mind seemed to travel back to everything he knew to be the Frodo that once was. All of those good things in that one person, he just had to believe that they could come back, that Frodo could come back! Sam lunged at his master and pried Sting from his grasp.  
  
Frodo cried out at his one chance for escape as it slipped right from his hands. He cursed himself for having such a light grip. He cursed Sam for taking that chance away from him. He cursed Sam for caring about his life, for loving him the way he did, for giving up everything even life just so he could endure another day. Because that's what Sam did. He gave up food, water, everything just so that he may be by Frodo's side till the end. And now that the end had come Sam took it away. His Sam! The one that he thought he could trust beyond all others!  
  
Frodo's hand clawed onto the sword as if it were his one link to salvation. His one chance left to be free and no longer condemned as a miserable pitiable wretch. His eyes blazed at Sam as his hands left the sword hilt and he raised a hand with one final cry and curse. With a terrible smack Sam fell to the ground, the sword flew behind him and Frodo fell knocking his head on the cruel rock.  
  
Sam rubbed his cheek where Frodo's hand had assaulted him but he had no time to feel bitter. He felt the rage slowly drain from him leaving behind an undeniable sorrow that filled his eyes and trailed down his cheeks as he rushed to his master's side.  
  
"Mr. Frodo! I'm sorry but I just couldn't let you! I just couldn't!"  
  
Frodo groaned and lifted his head. He ran his hand along his curls and touched the soar flesh in the back of his head. He brought his hand back around and Sam gasped in horror. Frodo tried to focus his eyes on his hand and saw the blood dabbed along his fingers and sluggishly running down his palm. He mused slightly and turned his hand about. Yes that was blood. His blood.  
  
"Oh." He mused aloud and then fell back.  
  
Sam caught Frodo as his body wavered and held him close. "This is all my fault!" He groaned feeling pain well up in his heart.  
  
"No," Frodo gasped holding onto consciousness, "It's better this way Sam."  
  
"But why master? What's happened? Why don't I remember? Days and days how long was I off my head? What's happened?"  
  
"The water." Frodo motioned to the canteen, "You couldn't go without it. So I-" he gasped the pain in his head was so great. It throbbed so much. But he had to tell Sam now, he had to leave him and he had to tell him why. "I kept you alive. That was my quest Sam. Not the Ring. I know now that what I had to do has been done. You finish the rest, Sam. And maybe they'll tell tales and lays about us and they might not know why Samwise The Brave's master had to leave in the end. But I just want you to know. You deserve to know, Sam."  
  
"Oh master! You don't have to go! You saved me! Now it's my turn!"  
  
"No, Sam!" Frodo caught Sam by the collar, "You need to know. It's the Ring. It attaches itself to you, imbeds itself into your very being. I am a part of it now. It will never leave me or if it does it will leave a- it will leave a hole. Just an empty space. There's a creature inside of me I never want you to see. I don't want him to get to you too. Not my Sam. You have to stay just as perfect as you are so that you can go back. Mine was a small sacrifice so that you may stay pure."  
  
"But, Mr. Frodo."  
  
"No Sam. No 'Mr.' You are the best friend I ever had. I cannot tell you in words how good you are to me and I don't deserve you as a friend."  
  
"Oh master I can't let this happen. Forgive me!" Sam rushed from his master's side and grabbed the canteen. When he returned Frodo was lying quietly and breathing rather slowly. Sam fell to his knees and tore at his shirt. He formed a compress, as Frodo had done for him, and dipped it in the canteen. He pulled it tight around his master's brow and scooped the small body in his arms.  
  
"Forgive me for saving you," Sam whispered.  
  
Frodo tried to pull himself back to consciousness. He could see Sam's face swimming in his line of vision and could feel the cool band around his head. His hands gripped Sam's collar as he was lifted off the ground and he mumbled something incoherent. When he felt his voice return he tried to explain to Sam again.  
  
"I forgive you Sam. Forgive me."  
  
"What for?" Sam looked down at his master.  
  
"Forgive me for what I will do. It won't be me."  
  
Sam was quiet. He did not want to say he didn't understand but he just couldn't. Frodo knew this no matter how hard he tried. Sam would never understand. This was why he loved him. Sam would never be touched by that accursed Ring. And now Frodo knew why he could not let go. He could not let Sam be touched by that foul thing not even for the last gasp of their journey.  
  
"Sam I cannot walk any more. I will never make it up the mountain."  
  
"I will carry you, sir. If it breaks my back and my heart I'll do it."  
  
Frodo looked around their small safe hold. "Leave everything we will no longer need it."  
  
Sam nodded sorrowfully, "I know."  
  
"Finish the water, I want you to. Don't protest!" Frodo held up a hand, "I suffered the journey to get it I decide what to do with it. You drink it."  
  
Sam nodded and cried as he drank the last gulp in the canteen and gathered his broken master up into his arms. "Come now, Frodo, we'll make it."  
  
Sam left their little safe hold where he had been nursed by his master back to substantial health, and his and Frodo's life had been saved yet again. He sighed and lifted Frodo marveling at his feather lightness. Sam's weary eyes slowly traveled up the rocky mountain that seemed to stick so cruelly out of the ground like a bone jolted out of its socket and jutting out of the skin. Sam shuttered at the thought. He took the first step and felt the fierce stone jut into his skin and draw blood from his raw feet. He grimaced and thought for a moment Frodo would feel his body shutter but the older hobbit did not move or give any sign of consciousness.  
  
"That's it Mr. Frodo, you rest now, your Sam will take care of you."  
  
Sam lifted his feet a little higher and placed them as gently as he could on the stone. He cringed as dirt mingled with his blood and stung his poor feet. "Not a break. Not yet." He struggled on and wove between the huge stones piercing the sky. He looked from one to another and huffed as his breath became ragged. "Ain't gettin' nowhere like this. Wish there were a straight road or-" he gasped again trying to regain a steady breathing, "or- something-" He shot his eyes from rock to rock and sneered at their ugly faces. "This mountain is the foulest thing I ever seen."  
  
No response came from Frodo who seemed awfully limp and cold. Sam shook his head. This would not do. He would make sure his master ate up proper and got back to his normal health when they returned home. He sighed, it was hard to think of home with all these nasty looking stones and rock staring at him.  
  
He looked to the sky for some sign of anything fair or undefiled. The sky was no better. It roved above him like some repulsive cloud of smoke and filth. There was a red dot somewhere in the distance and as Sam saw it he felt his heart quail and something seize him like the cold grip of an iron hand. He froze for a moment and his hand twitched as his eyes locked on that point of fiery light. One hand slowly reached towards the neck of his small burden but Sam quickly stopped himself and gasped. "What am I doin!" He narrowed his eyes into a feral glare. "Ah, curses to ye!" He cried at the light, "Samwise Gamgee ain't so easily caught off guard!" And with that he stamped of not heeding the pinprick of pain shooting through his sore feet.  
  
He mumbled a bit cursing at the tricks of that nasty Ring when he felt he could not longer go on. He sat down and lay his master on the smoothest surface he could find. "I'm sorry sir, but just a short rest. My feet are achin' me so. At least you're gettin' some rest now, sir." Sam looked down at the ashen face of his master. Why had he been so limp? So cold?  
  
"Frodo?"  
  
The silence was almost as cruel as the mountain itself. Sam knelt down and ran his hands along his master's brow. "Oh master! Do not be dead! You can't be!"  
  
"Shh, Sam," came Frodo's weak reply. His eyes were still closed and his face seemed stony and pale.  
  
Sam felt his heart leap for joy. "Oh master!" He embraced Frodo too full of joy to care anymore. Frodo grunted at the sudden jolt of his body but a small smile twitched across his features.  
  
"Dear Sam I won't leave you just yet. But I am-" Frodo's mind seemed to wander and his body eased as if in sleep.  
  
"Mr. Frodo?"  
  
Frodo jerked out of sleep and his lids opened halfway to show a pale glitter in his eyes. The color was undistinguishable now and they seemed a faded grey to the vibrant color they once were. "Yes Sam?"  
  
Sam was silent and just lay next to his master and looked to the sky. Frodo eased back into sleep again comforted in having Sam back and in full health. Sam closed his eyes but he could not help feel as if he were being watched. He sensed a presence and he did not like it. A few minutes later as sleep still was distant to him he opened his eyes at the thought of hearing a low hissing in his ear, right next to him. But it couldn't be, the closest being to him was Frodo. And this could not come from his dear Mr. Frodo. Something that sounded like "my preciouss" He shuttered and turned to his master who seemed to be sleeping fretfully. His brow creased with worry and his eyes clenched tight. Sam sighed and turned back on his side to see a small shadowy figure dart in the distance and two pale eyes gleam at him from the darkness then melt into the shadows of the rocks once more. He shuttered and sat up.  
  
"Don't look like I'll be gettin' any sleep tonight. Not with that slinking Gollum on our tracks, that wretched thing."  
  
He heard a whimper next to him and turned to see Frodo had turned away from him. Sam just sighed figuring it was a dream fretting his master. He began to hum a low tune he could remember hearing recently.  
  
Beyond all towers strong and high. Beyond all mountains steep.  
  
~~~  
  
Frodo leaned back trying to focus through his half-closed eyelids. As he slowly drifted to and from sleep he breathed more slowly with almost an air of peace about him. But what he heard escape from his own lips made his blood run cold and his heart sink; "my preciouss". His eyes clenched tightly closed and he wished to Elbereth that Sam did not hear. What next met his ears made his heart wrench with pain though it sounded fuzzy and far away.  
  
".slinking Gollum.wretched thing."  
  
Was that Sam who had been so cruel? But then he didn't know, he would never understand. It wasn't his fault. Frodo whimpered and turned to his side, tears streaming down his cheeks. Sam may love his master with all of his heart but he hates Gollum with all of his being. How would he ever accept this new creature Frodo was? This half-pure, half-wretch? Frodo stifled a few coughs that seemed to rise up in his throat and as they squeaked out they made a croaking "gollum" sound. At hearing this he felt despair rise up in him and stifled a cry of self hate. He smothered the rest of his chokes and cries so that Sam would not hear and silently cried himself to sleep wishing he still had Sting or that the head wound would slowly but surely claim his life. Sam couldn't know. He could never know that this was who his master was becoming.  
  
Soon enough the dull ache in his head and the warm feel of blood slowly leaking and sticking to his curls lulled Frodo into a dreamless state and a bitter cold seemed to fill his weakening body. Something besides Gollum lurked in the shadows that night and it had the patience and icy feel of.. death. 


	8. Dust and Ash

Frodo's eyes fluttered open, his brain could not distinguish, for the moment, where he was or what was going on before him. His head lolled but he found something soft and warm under his chin. His eyes roved to see a mass of sandy curls before him and he breathed in the foreign scent of something--- fair. There was nothing foul or tainted about this scent. It did not choke him, or make him cringe, or make his stomach lurch. It was pleasant and his brain could not register this type of thing.  
  
It took another moment for him to realize he was moving. Someone was bearing him up the mountain as a child on the back of his father taking a ride that too young legs, could never find the strength to travel. He sighed and felt his body slacken again. This wasn't all that bad, he could find nothing wrong with this but things registered so slowly and the world moved so fast he found it hard to understand.  
  
He came aware to a dull ache in his head and it burned so, as the sore flesh throbbed in protest to the jolting and his mind swirled with the constant motion. He found his hand fall limp and dangle in the constant motion. He moaned slightly and turned his head to try and dull the pain.  
  
"Shh, Mr. Frodo, everythin's alright. I found a path an' we're gettin' close now."  
  
That voice he knew that voice. Frodo found himself saying something he did not even think of before it came to his lips and dribbled out like a child trying to speak his first words, "Good Sam."  
  
Time moved so strangely. Frodo looked at the strange rocks and the red sky as it all mixed before his line of vision. Even the slightest movements pained his head so and each flash of white pain Frodo seemed to lose himself to some dark numbness, falling deeper.  
  
Despite Sam's best efforts to run smoothly as not to jolt his master he knew he could not. His feet were cut and bleeding and his body ached with each movement. Even the road was rough and wove around the sharp stones. He wanted to move fast, something told him that time had already run out and he was chasing some foolish hope that did not even exist. Around every sharp turn he thought he could see it skit and fly and always be beyond reach. It teased him and he knew he would never catch it. It would just fade away like everything else. This made Sam grit his teeth and tighten his muscles. He forced his feet faster but a low moan escaped Frodo's lips and he tried to make his steps more even.  
  
"Now if only I were as graceful as an elf. Maybe I'm not much help to me master after all. It is my fault he hit his head. I know that wound is still open, oh curse this land! If we weren't here, in this wretched place! He'd find help. But no, what am I thinking now? If we weren't here he wouldn't have that wound to begin with. Oh terrible fate let that be hope I really am chasing not just another lie in this land of lies! Land of Deceit!" Sam lifted an arm and ran his sleeve along his eyes then tucked it back away to hold Frodo tighter to him.  
  
Suddenly he felt Frodo squirm and he stopped and set his master down as gently as he could. His breath came in great gasps. He had traveled long and hard since morning broke, if this dismal darkness could be morning. Frodo braced the ground with trembling hands and coughed. Sam pat his master's back and reached a trembling hand to the wrap around his head. Blood had soaked through it now and dried all along it until the color almost matched that of Frodo's hair. Frodo grimaced at Sam's gentle touch and his arms collapsed under him.  
  
He gripped his elbows and held tight to himself shivering on his side. He curled his knees to his chest and trembled, eyes wide with pain and fear. He could not let Sam hear! He felt another cough rise in his throat and he tried to gulp it down again. "Gol-" Frodo began strangling himself with his hands, "gol- goll-" He wrapped his hands around his throat and wrung them tightly as if in an attempt to strangle the life out of himself.  
  
"Mr. Frodo!" Sam cried not heeding the strange sounds of the strangled coughs.  
  
Sam gripped Frodo's hands and pried them from his throat. Frodo trembled again his body shaking with each suppressed cough. He couldn't say it! He wouldn't say it!  
  
"Don't let him take me-" Frodo whimpered his voice a small shred of a whisper. He gasped and let his body fall limp in Sam's arms.  
  
Sam felt his heart flop as he gathered his master and held him tight. "Oh master! I can't fight this for you! I would fight! I hate myself for being bound to this world when you are in danger in another!"  
  
Frodo turned his half-opened eye's to Sam and Sam perceived that his countenance became relaxed and almost happy. "You- you understand- it isn't on Mount Doom that I shall fall fighting- it's in my mind- but I'm glad you can't fight Sam- if you don't fight- you don't fall- I don't want you to fall Sam- please don't let yourself fall-"  
  
Sam lifted his master once more and continued on the journey. "We must keep going, Frodo. We're so close."  
  
Frodo did not hear for once more he was swept away to the dark confines of his mind where he stood face to face with a creature terrible to behold. "You're not me!" He cried with a terrible screech that echoed in his mind as he lunged at the creature with all the strength he once had and tore at it crying tears of love and loathing. He felt himself held back and when he looked up a claw wrapped around a chunk of his hair as he was pressed to the ground, his knees collapsing under him. His eyes were forced to look up straight into the darkness and another claw gripped at his arms so tightly that it cut his flesh like blades. Frodo whimpered and struggled against it.  
  
"No, no beloved Frodo! You preciouss little thing, don't hurt uss now preciouss."  
  
Frodo jerked like a trapped animal and tried to pull his arm from the iron grasp. He said nothing for there was nothing to say to this wretch. It wanted control over him. It wanted everything he loved. It wanted to consume all that was good in the world. It would feed off of him and then Sam and all that he loved. No he could not let this happen! Not Sam! Frodo pulled again and spun around. He was still bound but he found himself on top of the creature and digging his elbows into its stomach. Through clenched teeth the screamed a determined yell and drove the back of his head against the creature's chest.  
  
"Achsss!! Now preciouss we are not being obedient! What happened to our lovely little Frodo? Our obedient little rat to kick!"  
  
Frodo felt blind rage, fill him. "I'm not under your power any more Gollum!"  
  
"Now preciouss we'ves sstill got some venom yess!"  
  
Frodo felt his neck being dragged as if the weight of the Ring increased ten fold. His eyes shot open and he felt himself dig into Sam's body and his back tremble with the weight. Sam's steps faltered and he slowed significantly. "Mr. Frodo please don' do that- it- hurts-" Sam gasped as Frodo's elbows dug into his back. A determined yell wrenched through Frodo's teeth as he kicked savagely like a caged beast.  
  
Frodo's foot swung out and knocked the back of Sam's leg. It caved under the force of the blow and both hobbits tumbled to the ground. Sam struggled to regain his feet as he felt himself fall backwards onto the last person he'd wish to distribute any of his weight on.  
  
"Oomph!" Frodo grunted as the wind was knocked out of him and he felt his whole body being driven into the rock-hard ground. He felt caught between the hammer and the anvil again and his head fell back again with another blow to the already sore flesh. This seemed to drive him back from the darkness of his mind and his eyes shot open to see Sam struggling to his feet a thousand "sorries" pouring from his lips. Frodo could not really come to understand the words but it did not matter.  
  
"Mr. Frodo! Me dear! Oh I'm a bumbling oaf! I couldn't keep my footin'-" Sam's voice was suddenly cut off by a scream that tore from his own throat as his hair was snatched in a strong, boney hand and jerked back in one quick motion. Once again Sam was thrown to the ground and it took him all the longer to regain his footing or his eyesight.  
  
When he came to he saw a dark, wretched creature standing over the cowering form of his master. Before he could cry out it lept on him in one swift motion and the two strove on the ground in a knot of limbs. Sam could hear the struggle and he called for his master hoping that if Frodo heard his name he would somehow find strength. It was a strange hope but Sam held to it all the same.  
  
"Frodo! Frodo Baggins! Frodo fight!"  
  
Gollum was thrown to the ground and he writhed like a spider, arms and legs flailing like eight instead of four and eyes gleaming with a dark endless light as the madness consumed him. His hands and feet met the ground again and in one spring he was upon Frodo who had gotten to his knees and struggled to stand. He was thrown a few feet back and it sent his mind reeling.  
  
"Preciouss! Preciouss! Give uss our preciouss!" Gollum hissed in Frodo's ear before he opened his mouth to display the rows of sharp teeth and snapped at the tip of the ear. Frodo ducked and as Gollum used all of his force to thrust his head out he tripped over him and fell forward. Frodo caught Gollums feet and dragged him backward in an attempt to swing him away. His strength failed him but Gollum did not manage to regain any balance with his feet bound and fell to the ground hitting his jaw with a hiss.  
  
"Nassty hobbitses! Cruel masster! Wicked trickses uss masster!" Gollum shrieked.  
  
"Oh we will show you a wicked trickses!" Frodo called anger smouldering in his eyes. After all this creature wanted the Ring, HIS PRECIOUS! Frodo drew Sting and waved it under Gollum's nose drawing closer his other hand to this breast.  
  
Sam blinked and rubbed his eyes. This could not be his master for Sam thought he had seen a great lord standing tall and robed in white raiment and crowned with a ring of stars. Frodo's voice seemed strong and boomed in a commanding tone that made even Sam's heart falter. Gollum inched away on his backside whimpering. Frodo's pale hand pressed against his chest as if attempting to conceal a great wheel of fire the blazed beneath his white robes. His eyes shone and bore down into the creature's very soul and Frodo stopped in that moment. His eyes sought that wretched Gollum and Frodo's hand lowered the sword. There was a soul. Something left and Frodo could not condemn it. For there was something left in him as well. Striving to survive. And he did not want to die. There was something dark and something light in each of them and the two rivals stood on that mount for what they were. Sam's vision cleared and Frodo was no longer a great lord and Gollum was no longer a dusty wisp of a shadow filled with a dark poison like evil itself was poured into him. Sam saw two creatures and he felt a small twinge of pity in his heart that he quickly tried to drive away.  
  
Frodo blinked and few times, one hand gripping Sting's hilt and the other held tight to his breast. Sam came forward and stood beside his master. "Mr. Frodo?"  
  
"Oh Sam I thought he'd kill you!" Frodo spun around and wrapped his arms around Sam, dropping Sting to the ground with a clatter. Sam almost faltered again not even expecting his master to turn with such speed but he immediately returned the embrace. His eyes caught Gollum who seemed to be weighing the situation in that twisted mind of him. Two pairs of eyes fell on the sword lying on the ground and Sam pulled away from Frodo. He put his foot on Sting's hilt as discreetly as he could and told Frodo to go on. Frodo embraced Sam again, eyes full of tears but both knew this was the end. This was how things must be.  
  
"We will meet again Samwise and next time it will be all the better for there will be light where we travel next! Farewell dear Samwise, brave a loyal friend!"  
  
"And you master! Farewell to you!"  
  
Frodo sucked in his breath and turned from Sam's embrace. Slowly but strongly he began his accent up the mountain to the end of all things. Sam then turned to Gollum and growled under his breath. "My master may have shown you mercy, you stinking thing, but I shall not!" Sam lifted Sting and advanced on the cowering creature....  
  
~~~  
  
Frodo saw the opening to the Cracks of Doom loom up in his vision. He closed his eyes and kept his steps strong and did not slouch or crawl. Whatever happened he would keep his honour till the end. He wanted them to say Frodo stayed strong till the very end of the journey. He wanted them to say he died fighting. Although all of his mental coaxing he did glance back and barely made out the two dark figures against the red Mordor sky. "Please, Sam, show him mercy. If you truly understand, if you truly care about me and understand my pain you will show pity to this creature who shall become just the dust and ash when it is over...like me.." 


	9. You are Lost You can NEVER go Home

There was a cry. A terrible sniveling pitiful cry that wailed in Sam's ear and strangled to a whimper. Sam's features softened. He felt the muscles on his arm, tight and gripping Sting's hilt with all his might and fury, ease and go limp. The sword lowered and he looked at the creature in front of him, cowering.  
  
"Pleasse!" It begged and the voice was frightened whisper. "Pleasse don't hurts uss preciouss. Not with nassty cruel ssteal." Gollum's eyes were clenched tight, his arm shielding his face from the blow. And in that moment Sam had a vision of his dear master, lying forlorn and naked in the Tower of Cirith Ungol. His face screwed tight with pain and terror, his arm shielding that fragile faces as his whole thin frame trembled. Sam shook his head fiercely.  
  
"Tell me, Smeagol!" Sam called in the most menacing voice he could muster causing the creature to open his eyes and stare wide and frightened up at Sam. "Tell me why I should not rent you in two!"  
  
Gollum flinched at those words and he could feel his stomach tighten as the cruel hobbit used his name for the first time. "Because-" Smeagol began cautiously trying to clear his throat. "Gollum!" he choked and felt his wretched heart tighten at the sound. Yes, even now he loathed himself for saying it. Every time he said it he could feel a new knife drive into his gut. "Oh how many knivess there are preciouss." He said aloud.  
  
Sam sneered at the wretched creature but did not waste his time in questioning such nonsense. "You are mad, Smeagol," mumbled Sam, "You've lost your mind long ago."  
  
Smeagol pulled himself into a sitting position and gazed at the cruel hobbit. "Yess, preciouss," he looked at the ground sorrowfully. "Like masster."  
  
Sam's eyes flashed with cold hatred. His head jerked up and immediately his grip tightened around Sting. "Aye! Don't you be sayin' such lies about me master!" Anger made his voice shake and once again Gollum fell to the ground and curled into a tight ball of fear rambling in his high pitched voice.  
  
"No! Preciouss! Don't hurtss uss! We only speak the truth! Don't lie to cruel, wicked hobbitses!"  
  
"Cruel and wicked, aye?" Sam growled, "We would have been nice until you said such things about our master." He mocked Gollum.  
  
"But we saw him preciouss! We seen him! He talkss, talkss with- with the preciouss! Yess he does!" Gollum defended himself. "In dark when the white eye watches uss we watch the masster, yess, and he's not masster any more preciouss, no." Gollum seemed to end on a sad note and he looked away to avoid Sam's cold gaze.  
  
"What are you rambling about, you filth?"  
  
Gollum tried to ignore the insult though it cut him like a blade. He winced once and a dark light flashed in his eyes, but was instantly replaced with sorrow. "He cannot go back, preciouss. Gol-" he cleared his throat but repressed the sound best he could.  
  
Sam felt his heart jump to his throat. Images of his master writhing on the ground with his hands wringing his own neck choking "gol- goll-" flashed before his eyes. He faltered and took a step back.  
  
"No."  
  
Gollum did not look at Sam therefore he did not see the shock and horror across his face. Gollum's eyes were fixed on the ground and a small circle he was drawing in the dirt over and over. "Once the preciouss is destroyed all Gollum will be destroyed too," whimpered the pitiful creature. "We will die! Preciouss die! Just dust and ash! Part of masster will die too. Part of master. is already dead."  
  
There was a clash and Sting fell to the ground with an echoing and hollow clatter. Sam's hand shot to his heart and gripped it as if to stop it from beating out of his chest. Gollum looked up and saw Sam's face contort with heart-breaking anguish. Sam took no more heed of the creature and bolted off in the direction that Frodo went as fast or even faster than his legs could possibly carry him. Gollum was left alone in the dust and a darkness crept back into his eyes...  
  
~~~  
  
It came so suddenly but not unwelcome. The booming tumult and unrest that wrenched through the heavy air of the deep heart of Mount Doom was silenced to a dull throb. Frodo could feel the sounds make the pit of his stomach tremble and the heat of the fire singe his fair skin and sweat drenched curls. The bowels of the mountain lay strewn about him as it gurgled and wretched more of the fire and foul ash all around him. Shadows lived on the walls as they seemed to dance and grope angrily at him. But no more. He could not see, he could not hear, he could not feel. A sluggish venom seemed to work in his veins replacing all the hot surging blood as terror had once rushed through him. It was gone and he could not be more thankful. The only sound was a soothing throb and a mesmerizing hum.  
  
Frodo moved, as if in a trance, and gazed down into the fiery depths of the mountain. It rumbled all about him and the earth shook and cracked under this terrible stress. He did not seem to care. Dancing with death, at the edge of the mountain, and nothing seemed to matter. He gazed down, entranced and amused. It was so bright, so very bright like his pretty little ring. Ah yes his ring, it would so very much like to see all of this. Instinctively he unclasped it and held it out.  
  
He smiled and his body swayed, his feet gripping the edge as small stones fell to the fire below. "Isn't it pretty?" he smiled holding out the Ring his body swaying drunkenly once more. There was a soft humming song in his head and it replaced the crash and boom of the mountain.  
  
But there was also a voice inside of Frodo screaming for some sanity. Wailing in the depths of his mind and he frowned. "We don't like it. Go away." He muttered.  
  
But the voice did not cease and there seemed to be a brutal fight of consciousness inside of him making the weary body sway this way, then that.  
  
~~~Where once was light Now darkness falls Where once was love Love is no more~~~  
  
He did not care. The Ring would survive. Middle Earth would become a desolate wasteland of death and decay. All that he knew and loved would die and fade away into nothingness. Phantoms of those he wronged would forever haunt him. But the burden would be gone.  
  
~~~Don't say good-bye~~~ ~~~Don't say I didn't try~~~  
  
Oh! But they were just cowards! They laid this burden to him! They knew it would destroy him! Tear him to shreds and yet they let him carry on with his false hope. They let him slowly deteriorate into the nothing that he now was. He screamed and such a woeful sound it was. It was wretched and tormented and he screamed at the voices inside of him pressing him this way and that. Destroy it! Keep it! Rule! Die! Live! Fall!. fall.  
  
He looked down into the fiery depths and shuttered all over. fall.  
  
~~~These tears we cry Are falling rain For all the lies you told us The hurt, the blame!~~~  
  
"You accursed wretched Ring! It's lies all lies! That's all you ever do is lie!" he whimpered.  
  
"Use it! You have suffered enough!" he muttered.  
  
Silent tears fell.  
  
"They will never accept you now, for the wretch that you are. Use it!" he growled.  
  
"If you do you fail!" he accused.  
  
"You have already failed and they already blame you! They hate you!" he hissed.  
  
"No! No stop it please." he whispered.  
  
~~~And we will weep To be so alone We are lost! We can never go home~~~  
  
"Lost! Lost!" he cried.  
  
"Fall just fall!" he pleaded.  
  
"You will never go home. They will never accept you now!" he wailed.  
  
"Wretch!" he screamed.  
  
"Stop!" he begged.  
  
"Please! I beg of you make it stop! I'll do it! Whatever you want! Just please make the pain stop!" He fell to his knees trembling, begging, pleading.  
  
"They hate you! They hate you!"  
  
~~~So in the end I will be --- what I will be No loyal friend Was ever there for me~~~  
  
In the moment Frodo thought he had heard a cry behind him. Sam! Some protest it sounded like "Frodo" but he could not be sure. His hands gripped his ears and he could feel the Ring burn into his palm. The cry was cut short somehow. He spun around almost losing his balance when he saw some terrible creature advance. Sam's limp form was splayed in the shadows barely visible in the dancing firelight. A dark form was slinking up to him now, teeth bared, hissing terribly.  
  
A crazed light passed by Frodo's eyes and all at once he rose to his feet and raised the Ring in one hand. "I claim this as my own! Now be gone, Gollum!" He slipped the Ring onto his finger and the pursuing creature stopped looking around furiously.  
  
~~~Now we say --- goodbye We say --- you didn't try.~~~  
  
But this did not stop Gollum for long. He screamed a horrid screech of anger and fury and hissed some inane mutterings as he bounded about the cliff's edge seeking the invisible Frodo.  
  
It was Frodo who's insane mind thought to seek and destroy his malicious foe and once he was safely cloaked by the Ring pounced on the enraged creature. But both monsters did not anticipate the others strength and the war that was waged on those cliffs was greater and more fierce than any on the battle fields of Middle Earth.  
  
Sam's vision was swimming. He rubbed his head and a blurry vision of Gollum scrambling on the edge, fighting an unseen foe, appeared before him. There was a scream and it wrenched through the air like that of a dying creature. Sam saw Frodo's form huddled on the ground, cradling his hand. He was about to run to him when Gollum reached down and grabbed Frodo by the neck. Sam screamed in terror and fury.  
  
Gollum cackled and lifted the swooning hobbit over his head and in one terrible motion tossed him like some filthy rag doll against the wall of the cave. The next thing he heard was something Sam would never forget. There was another heart-wrenching cry, weaker and more feeble yet desperate than the last, and a terrible cracking noise as bone met stone. Sam was at Frodo's side in a flash who seemed to be in the most twisted position, unmoving on the ground. He did not notice Gollum dancing for joy or the terrible hiss as it echoed down below the fires. But he did feel the earth shake and the fire belched forth from the mount. He gathered his broken master in his arms and ran to the entrance and exit of this wretched place. He looked back once to see it falling in on itself and then spun on his heel to fly down the mount as quick as his hobbit legs could go.  
  
Sam did not make it far before his body could not catch up with his legs and he tumbled down the rest of the ways. When he looked up he saw Frodo lying a short distance in front of him an he crawled to his master, weeping and screaming his name.  
  
When he reached his side Frodo gasped desperately. "Sam!" he cried not opening his eyes, "I'm afraid to go alone!"  
  
Sam kneeled and lifted his master's head in his lap. Frodo's eyes snapped open as he cried out again. Sam found his lap had been drenched in Frodo's blood and the wound in the back of his head had been reopened. When Sam drew his hand away he could not keep in the terrified gasp as he saw a chunk of Frodo's hair in a pool of blood swimming in his palm.  
  
"Oh Mr. Frodo!"  
  
Frodo's eyes stared up at the sky unseeingly. "I'm sorry. Sam. I'm sorry. I've failed and now I must go alone into darkness. It is all that I deserve and I shall be forever imprisoned there never to see or hurt you again."  
  
"But Mr. Frodo you didn't fail! You are a hero! What darkness? Where are you goin'? You never hurt me Mr. Frodo! It's not your fault! None of this is your fault! You are good! You are good!"  
  
"Oh Sam. I cannot be any longer. part of me shall die. the rest is lost. I cannot escape it. He was too smart. he. he knew. that once he was gone he could still.. Trap me. where. I. never get.. Free.."  
  
"Mr. Frodo! Oh please don't go! You cannot go without your Sam! Do not leave me all alone!" Sam sobbed and wept over his master's broken form. "It's just your arm, Mr. Frodo! That's what hit the wall! And you got a bit of a bump on your head! But! No! No! No! You can't die! You can't! Not like this! Not like this!"  
  
~~~These tears you cry Have come too late Take back the lies The hurt, the blame!~~~  
  
Frodo gasped and his eyes went wide in agony. His back arched until he sat almost bolt upright and he screamed his last words to his beloved friend, "Cuio nin mellon! Im wanwa na inwisti! A uume nyenye ten nin!" With that the hobbit fell back trembling and spoke no more.  
  
~And you will weep When you face the end alone You are lost! You can never go home~~~  
  
Sam wept long until darkness took his mind and he thought he was soaring high in the clear, bright skies upon the mighty backs of eagles as Bilbo had done once upon a time. But even his sleep was no untroubled with images of his dear master and his last gasping words.  
  
  
  
TBC.  
  
  
  
Yes this story will be continued but not in this fic. I will continue it in the sequel "Imprisoned" which should be up shortly so I shan't torment you for long. I hope you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for the lovely reviews. And if you're wondering what Frodo said it was "Farewell my friend! I am lost to my mind! Do not weep for me!"  
  
::sniffle:: I know I was about to cry just writing this though I hope I am not overestimating my work. REVIEW please or I shall certainly end up like Frodo!!! ::puts hand to forehead dramatically:: 


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